


you belong with me (not swallowed in the sea)

by inakingdombythesilversea



Category: Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post 1x06, bc i am trash for pining, but mostly in the form of PINING, slight angst, the tiniest bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 02:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20987222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inakingdombythesilversea/pseuds/inakingdombythesilversea
Summary: "Is that not what it means to deeply care about a person? To see them, to - to truly see them as they are, with all their weaknesses and faults, and love them for it?”Her words hang delicately in the space between them, and Sidney is suddenly paralyzed. An unreadable emotion passes briefly over Charlotte’s face before her eyes quickly return to his, holding his gaze with a dazed yet searching look before she gives him a small warm smile.And Sidney is lost, his heart stuttering in his throat.-------------------------------------------Sidney comes to an epiphany at the final ball. My fantasy for 1x08 written before said episode came out...so basically an accidental fix-it fic. rip





	you belong with me (not swallowed in the sea)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Wow, this is the first fic I am publishing on this site! I have written a few drabbles for other fandoms in the past, but this is the first time in a long time that I have tried longer prose, and I really enjoyed the challenge! Please note that I wrote most of this after 1x06 aired, but life got really hectic so I wasn't able to finish the last bit until tonight, and as such, the plot diverges from canon.
> 
> Thank you to the Sanditon fam - love you guys. I have so loved fangirling with you over each new sneak peek and episode and Hand Touch™. Hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think in the comments (if you want) :)
> 
> Title comes from "Swallowed in the Sea," one of my absolute favorite Coldplay songs.

James Stringer is standing in the corner of the ballroom, politely conversing with one of the Beaufort twins, and it makes Sidney feel unsettled, taking another gulp of his madeira as he affects an air of nonchalance, one elbow on the mantlepiece, seemingly surveying the throng of dancers. He can’t quite determine what has incited this feeling. He tells himself it is because James Stringer seems out of place, out of his usual worn workman jacket and into a crisp suit and soft cream cravat. Perhaps it is because the man keeps flitting his eyes toward the entryway, even as he contributes a nod to the conversation, as if waiting for someone, as if anticipating the arrival of -

-perhaps because seeing Stringer so calm and polished is such a stark contrast to the moment he stumbled upon after the regatta, of Stringer with wind-mussed hair and bright earnest eyes clasping tight the hands of a certain young woman. He had spun away and retreated behind the nearby willows before he could be noticed, but the image remained. Even as he returned to the shore, he could still see Charlotte Heywood, eyebrows furrowed, lips parted and quirked with a small choked laugh, taking a half step toward the young man – and not letting go.

(Perhaps, in truth, he studies the pattern in Stringer’s vest from across the room as if reading the morning paper because it prevents him from following the man’s line of vision himself – for the present company have already danced a quadrille and a Scottish reel, and yet Charlotte Heywood is still not here.)

It all seems so strange now, he muses, deliberately turning away from Stringer to take a turn about the ballroom. It was he, not even a fortnight ago, who held her small hands in his, gently leading her through what seemed like their first dance, he who made her laugh as he spun her around and held her tight, he who got to see that wide-eyed look of wonder in her soft brown eyes as he swept her across the dance floor. 

(The dance goes on, and Charlotte Heywood is still not here.)

And yet she has barely looked him in the eyes since, apart from those moments alone on the water a few days prior, as he teased her on her rowing form, as she met him with equal wit in recalling their success at cricket, as he adjusted her posture with a gentle hand at her waist. Apart from this moment, and her shy, contemplative smile, it seems that she has almost made it her express intent to slip away unnoticed whenever he has called upon Mary or joined a general gathering. 

(The dance goes on, and Charlotte Heywood is still not here.)

He cannot begin to understand what has brought about this change, but he’s not naïve. Tom has not been subtle in remarking on the young Stringer’s increasing attentions toward Miss Heywood since their return from London, and he knows that perhaps their time together in London was not enough to sway her opinion toward his favor. How could it have been, when he had been so unspeakably cruel in the past? When he had underestimated her at every turn, bristled at her open heart and frankness because it reminded him all too well of the person he had once been, the person he had tried to forget? Oh, how he wishes that this time he could be enough, that he could be brave enough to take her hands and look into her eyes, to take that leap of faith and present his heart, to – 

-but he knows that Charlotte Heywood deserves someone who has never toyed with her feelings, someone who has been admirable and good from the beginning. Perhaps young Stringer is that someone, and yet the dance goes on and Charlotte - 

“-Sidney!”

The man in question is wrenched from his thoughts as he looks up and suddenly finds Tom Parker striding toward him and, to his surprise, clasping Mrs. Parker’s hand in the crook of his elbow.  
“Tom!” Sidney grins, placing a firm hand on his brother’s shoulder as he nods warmly to Mary, “how happy I am to see you. I must say you look quite well.”

“My dear brother, you are much mistaken! I am far from well, I am ecstatic! After such a thrilling success at the regatta, I am eager to enjoy this assembly – and dance with you, my dear Mary,” Tom exclaims, turning toward his wife, who shakes her head in fond exasperation and allows him to lead her onto the dance floor.

“I am so glad all is well again between Mr. and Mrs. Parker.”

Sidney sharply turns his gaze away from his brother, and suddenly finds himself rooted to the spot. For Charlotte stands before him, in a pale blue gown with chestnut curls framing her face and hair interwoven, to his sentimental awe, with delicate forget-me-not flowers. She smiles softly at him, seeming to search for something in his eyes before smiling wider with a shy glance to the floor as she joins him to look out upon the dancers.

He can’t help but sneak another glance before quickly following suit as he quietly admits, “I was not sure if you were coming to the ball, Miss Heywood.”

“There were certain…matters of the heart that needed attending,” Charlotte responds, quirking a smile as she gazes out toward Tom and Mary.

Sidney grins, leaning his shoulder closer to hers to whisper conspiratorially, “your doing, I presume.”

“I assure you, indeed not! I may have merely…suggested to Mr. Parker that his presence was requested in the sunroom where Mrs. Parker resided.” Charlotte arches an eyebrow at him in challenge, which shakes out a surprised yet fond laugh from Sidney before they both turn back to staring at the crowd.

“I was afraid all hope for reconciliation was lost,” Sidney muses quietly, “for Tom was despondent when we spoke in London. You were right, all those weeks ago, when I wrongly chastised you for remarking on his character.” He can feel Charlotte’s eyes on him as he continues but he carefully avoids her probing gaze in favor of observing Tom attempt some elaborate footwork to at best moderate avail. “My brother can be stubbornly optimistic in his ambitions to a fault, and I feared that he had lost Mary’s faith in trying to shield her from his troubles. It seemed even at the regatta that his faults were too reprehensible.”

Sidney turns to Charlotte to find her regarding him contemplatively, before her eyes skip away and take on a far-away look as she seems to weigh her words. 

“If I may be frank, Mr. Parker, I believe that the root of the rift was not entirely a matter of losing faith. On the contrary, the point of distress seemed to be the implication that Mr. Parker was afraid to lay his faults out for her scrutiny, that he feared his wife would think less of him for being privy to his wrongs, that he felt that he must… redress his errors all alone without help or support when indeed he did not? For…surely, is that not what it means to deeply care about a person? To see them, to - to _ truly _ see them as they are, with all their weaknesses and faults, and love them for it?”

Her words hang delicately in the space between them, and Sidney is suddenly paralyzed. An unreadable emotion passes briefly over Charlotte’s face before her eyes quickly return to his, holding his gaze with a dazed yet searching look before she gives him a small warm smile.

And Sidney is lost, his heart stuttering in his throat. Over the years he had learned to conceal his emotion, to carry his feelings close to his heart and suppressed beneath the surface, to maintain a facade of indifference and rational clarity. Yet nothing could have prepared him for Charlotte Heywood and her ability to strip away his defenses, to tear aside the wrappings like flimsy newsprint and somehow discover the heart of the matter with ease. Does she still speak of Tom and Mary, he wonders? For surely no woman has seen him the way she has, no woman has demanded of him such honesty, or has made him reflect so genuinely on his failings. No woman has made him at times so infuriated yet so desirous to lay aside the distrust he has nursed for the past ten years and present his entire self, both the good and the bad, for her scrutiny, for her praise or her censure.

The emotion seems to batter against his ribcage. _ You have only ever seen me, the truest me, at my best and at my worst. Has that been enough? Could you possibly love me too? _

He feels the question bubbling out of him, leaping up his throat, on the tip of his tongue.

_ (But what if it ruins everything _, a part of him wonders – _ what if I cannot go back from this? _

_oh, but what if it doesn’t _, another part whispers, the part of his soul he thought he had snuffed out long ago, the part that has become increasingly restless since holding her close during their dance in London, since witnessing her determination to follow her heart and judgement, since observing her fearlessness, her resourcefulness, her avid mind, her kindness, and her open heart – 

-_what if it makes everything right?) _

Entirely unbidden, his hopeful heart wins out, as he unconsciously takes a step closer, close enough to hear her sharp inhale in response, as he breathes out, “Miss Heywood, I -”

“My dear Charlotte, I’m afraid I simply must drag you away – you don’t mind, do you Sidney? – for Lady Denham has been most particular in asking for you.” In a matter of moments Tom is whisking Charlotte away toward the opposite side of the room. Sidney feels himself sway forward, as if tied to a string that has just been pulled taut as Charlotte, glancing briefly back at him with an apologetic yet curious smile, is led away. He watches her until she has disappeared in the sea of muslin and silk, and then quickly collects himself, carefully reconstructing his emotional mask as he drains his glass and turns in search of Lord Babington. He could use a distraction.

____________________________________________________________

He’s dancing with Eliza, a polite formality he wishes he could have kindly refused, when he spots her again – but this time Stringer is with her, to his perennial chagrin.

“Miss Heywood and that young fellow make a lovely pair, do they not?” Eliza remarks lightly, firmly taking his hand as he is drawn back to the present and the circling dancers. He remains silent, absently going through the appropriate gestures as Eliza continues, a breezy, authoritative air about her deceptively serene smile. “A pity that she can’t do better, for she is rather pretty for a country girl, but nothing to be done about that. She may be a charming little thing, but she cannot be naïve enough to imagine that we don’t understand her real reason for coming to Sanditon. An outward display of innocence is not enough to hide an aspiration for greater social standing.”

Sidney feels himself bristling with each sentence uttered, compelled to come to Charlotte’s defense, as he meets her mirthful eyes with a carefully guarded gaze and tight smile. “Charlotte is an amiable, well-read, and resourceful young woman, Mrs. Campion, and as I am to understand, she is a gentleman’s daughter, all qualities which make her more than equal to any man in this room. Wealth and circumstance should not come into one’s estimation of character or personal motivation.”

Eliza arches an eyebrow at him. “That very well may be, but Sidney. Look around you. You know as well as I do how money drives society. If she indeed does not heed what society expects of her, then she may not be as sensible as you seem to think.” 

They separate briefly as the dance requires, and suddenly all he can think of is that day at Lady Denham’s luncheon, and the conviction with which Charlotte spoke of marriage, sparing him a glance as she unwittingly turned his carefully constructed world on its axis. 

_ If I were to choose a husband, wealth would not come into it. _

She could not have known how those words had shaken him. He had been so determined all those weeks ago to make himself unknowable, to push her away before he could be drawn in, before he could get hurt, that he was left unprepared for her frankness, for the words that spoke straight to his battered and bruised heart and made him realize that it was too late, that he had already fallen. 

_ Should not a good marriage be based on mutual love and affection? _

“You know, I spoke with her after the regatta,” Eliza continues as they return to their spots facing each other and resume the dance pattern, glancing at him with a slight smirk and almost mockingly incredulous gaze, as if anticipating the delivery of a preposterous tale. “I met her along the path to the starting line, shortly after that young labourer pulled her aside, I imagine to share in his celebrations with her. I tried to console her, for she appeared most perplexed. Can you believe she actually told me she had received a marriage proposal, and intended to refuse him? Indeed, she professed that she is not in love with him, even when he appears, to my knowledge, to be quite an agreeable young man with fine prospects in making a name for himself. I advised her, of course, that she would be silly to judge so hastily, for love and affection can grow with time, and do you know what she said? It was the sweetest and saddest thing – she told me ‘perhaps. But I cannot imagine how that could be possible when one’s heart is already spoken for.’ The poor girl seemed truly despondent – I suspect an unrequited love. She seems to cling to some childish romantic sentiment when such notions are mere flights of fancy. As you and I both know, no one can survive on such fantasies in the real world.”

Sidney remembers the first time he visited the beach as a child. He remembers wading into the cold water, hesitant in his steps, regarding the open expanse with slight trepidation, before a small wave swept into him, and Tom pulled him beneath the water. He remembers how eerily still, how calm it felt, submerged in the sea, as if he had briefly left the present moment and his present self, and found himself floating in an ether detached from the world. Most of all, he remembers rising to the surface, taking a gasp of air, and opening his eyes wide with wonder and laughing alongside his brothers, as he looked upon the world with new eyes, as the crashing sound of the waves wrapped around his ears, as the sunlight glistened across the endless blue, as Arthur flicked water droplets in his face, and he laughed and splashed and marveled at his former hesitance and the new-found clarity of his emotions.

Sidney Parker’s feelings now, as he stands in the middle of the ballroom facing the woman he once loved, are startlingly comparable. For if anything, he muses wildly, Eliza’s words have had the opposite effect than she intended, giving him the clarity of mind he desperately needed. All at once, he sees her as she is – the woman he once loved who loved him back, but was not brave enough to take the leap of faith, and allowed society to strip her of her individual spirit . Yet Charlotte – _his Charlotte_ – has been unapologetically forthright and true, and even now believes in marrying for love – refuses to give up her conviction for the sake of societal pressure – even professes to be in love? But if not with Stringer, could it be – dare he hope – 

And suddenly it makes sense. Her avoidance. Her hesitant smiles. Her contemplative expressions whenever Mrs. Campion entered the room on his arm. All at once he feels a chill – for she must not know how he feels. How could she, given his behavior when they first met, when even now, he stands with Mrs. Campion, when where he truly belongs is with – 

Something must come over his face, for the practiced smile on Eliza’s face momentarily slips, and she draws him away to the edge of the group of dancers, a hand on his arm as she quietly asks, “Why Sidney, are you quite alright?”

Sidney softens for a moment as he fixes her with a serious gaze, trying to remember the feelings he once held for her, almost desperately trying to see, one last time, if the woman he fell in love with is still there beneath it all. And then he remembers her final words, her snide dismissal of romance, and he realizes with sudden lucidity that he is no longer the same man, and she is no longer the same woman. He nods to acknowledge her question before steeling himself and speaking in a soft tone, hoping to not be overheard by the dancers that still glide around them.

“It was never about surviving for me, Mrs. Campion.” Sidney subtly slips his arm from her grasp, taking a small step back. “It was about living. And in truth, I dare say that perhaps I’ve lived more honestly and freely in the past few weeks than in years. I pray you too may find someone who gives you the courage to do so. I have grown to realize that opening yourself to the possibility of this romantic ‘fantasy’ you speak of is not a sign of weakness, but of strength and hope. And I refuse to cauterize my heart any longer.”

With those words, he sends her a bittersweet smile and bows, not waiting to see her face or hear her response before turning away and walking toward the steps at the entrance to the room. He turns back, eyes searching each corner from the elevated height, each survey of the room with increasing consternation, until his gaze travels upward and, with a sudden idea, he briskly leaves the room, determination in his step.

He must find her. He _has _ to find her. He must make this right.

For the dance goes on, _and Charlotte is not here. _

____________________________________________________________

Charlotte looks out the window in the small side-room she has found on the second floor of the assembly room. She can hear the music, a slower waltz, wafting to her ears, for the balcony overlooking the ballroom is just beyond the curtains near her hiding place. She remembers all too well the last time she was on that balcony and does not have the heart to step onto it. She already feels overwhelmed in her feelings and does not want to risk being seen by James Stringer, or worse yet being forced to watch Sidney dance with Eliza Campion across the tiles below. She’s not sure how much her emotions could bear in the span of an evening.

Her thoughts are suddenly interrupted as she hears boots striding in her direction, and she has scarcely time to prepare herself before none other than Sidney Parker sweeps into the room, almost out of breath, and stops abruptly on the opposite side of the room. Charlotte has studied Sidney Parker many times over the past weeks, witnessing the occasional cracks in his usual reserve, trying to make him out. But it is his face now, in the soft candlelight, that confuses her the most and sets her heart aflutter, for she has never seen it as open and expressive as now. Perhaps it is a trick of the light, but his eyes seem to burn into hers, flitting between hers and across her face as a smile overtakes his handsome features. He slowly steps toward her, until they are close enough for dancing, until she can see the flecks of light chestnut in his dark eyes, piercing in their gaze. Seeming to find what he was looking for, he tilts his head in question and speaks in a soft voice.

“Were you not enjoying the dance, Miss Heywood?”

Charlotte glances toward the balcony for a moment, before turning back to him and smiling in self-deprecation. “I thought I would take some fresh air – there are so many people below, I found it quite overwhelming.”

Sidney’s gaze flicks to his shoes before he looks back at her and, coming to a decision, holds out his hand. “May I?”

She feels her nerves rise up, observing the candelabra on the wall next to her, the rich maroon of the curtains, the delicate wall paintings, anything but the man before her, as she attempts to respond. “It is very kind of you to ask, Mr. Parker, but you truly need not feel obligated to ask me, simply because I am alone, for I am quite content to –"

Charlotte trails off as abruptly as she started, for as her eyes return to Sidney’s she suddenly feels rooted to the spot. His eyes crinkle at the corner as he grins widely, a fond expression on his face in response to her rambling. As she pauses, his gaze softens further. She feels her heart beating faster as he steps even closer to her, and then she gasps. For Sidney has just lifted a hand to her hair. She feels him gently caress a curl before drawing the hand back, revealing to her a fallen forget-me-not. She nearly forgets to breathe as he places a gentle, warm palm at the curve of her neck, thumb carefully grazing her cheek, and slips the flower back into her bun. And yet, with his mission complete, the hand still remains on her cheek, shaking slightly as he drags his thumb tenderly across her cheek toward her earlobe. She shivers slightly, and feels her heart stop and restart with his next words.

_“Charlotte,”_ he breathes out huskily, as if in prayer, staring deeply in her eyes, and Charlotte feels at once that nothing has ever sounded as sweet.

“_Charlotte_ – surely you must know by now – I do not wish to dance with anyone else. I would rather be here. With you.”

“Oh,” she whispers, quietly sobbing out a choked laugh. Until this moment, she had not dared to hope, but now she looks into his eyes and finds a yearning earnestness she never noticed before, his gaze brimming with an affection she never dreamed she would have.

Her gaze falls unbidden to his lips. Sidney inches his head closer, dipping down, eyes flitting between her mouth and her eyes, a silent question asked. All she can do is look back at him with glassy eyes and a tremulous smile, hoping he sees the answer. And he does understand. He _does_. For in the next moment, the hand caressing her jaw has moved to more firmly cradle her face, and his lips are on hers.

It is a surprisingly soft kiss, a delicate caress as he stands perfectly still, seemingly waiting for her reaction. She feels frozen in shock and wonder, but at the same time realizing she needs more, though how she’s not sure. Charlotte hesitantly places a hand on his coat, feeling the lapel of his jacket as she kisses him back.

And then, without fully knowing who initiated it, they are _kissing_, the hand at her jaw slipping to carefully tangle in her hair, another arm gripping her waist as Sidney changes the angle, and suddenly the kiss is deeper, and her heart is racing, and she feels herself melt into him, her hands gliding unbidden to his shoulders and then hesitantly to the nape of his neck. He sighs and pulls her impossibly tighter to him, kissing her until they are both prevented by nearly giddy smiles.

Sidney breaks the kiss, only to brush his nose against hers before looking into her eyes with a warm expression. There’s a vulnerability to his eyes that she’s never seen. He almost looks even younger as he stares at her with a light in his eyes, as if seeing her for the first time, a look of awe and relief and pure unbridled happiness. He tips his forehead to hers briefly, nudging his nose against hers again with a playful smile as she absent-mindedly plays with the curls at his neck.

“Will you not dance with me, my love?” he whispers.

She feels her eyes watering, overwhelmed with joy and love. “Yes.”

Sidney gently clasps her hands, eyes never turning away as he draws her toward the center of the room. Charlotte glances toward the balcony for a moment, realizing as the musicians tune their instruments for the next song that Sidney intends to dance with her here, alone, and she feels a thrill of anticipation. She wonders briefly what has become of Mrs. Campion, but before her mind can stray further Sidney must sense it, for his hands tighten around hers. She turns back to find him with a mischievous grin on his face, as he dips his head down and positions them for a waltz.

“Yes, unfortunately, I must report that your dance partner of choice is not here.”

She looks at him, confused for a moment, before he grins even wider, a teasing air about him as he continues. “My of course _far_ superior dancer of a brother Arthur was, as far as I am aware, last in search of buttered toast on the premises, but I’m afraid it shall be a lost cause.”

Charlotte can’t help but throw her head back in laughter as she wraps an arm around his neck. He joins her in a hearty chuckle before his face suddenly softens, and he stares at her, his emotions left exposed as he regards her earnestly.

“Will I do?” he whispers.

She feels a tremulous smile take over her face and hesitantly she whispers back.

“Always…Sidney.”

She can feel him freeze under her touch at the use of his Christian name, and for a moment she questions whether she should make amends for her slip in propriety, but a sudden emotion seems to swell through him, tears in his eyes as he brings his forehead gently down to hers for a moment and lets out a choked laugh. He pulls her closer, as if she belongs in his embrace, and in that moment she knows there is nowhere else she’d rather be.

The first strains of the violin are heard, the music commences, the dance goes on, and Charlotte – 

-Charlotte and Sidney take the leap. Together.


End file.
